The sun was beginning to dip behind the hills, casting long shadows across the sleepy village. As the warm glow faded, Bibi found herself staring at the mysterious, crumbling structure that stood alone at the edge of the forest—the abandoned house everyone talked about but no one dared to enter.
Bibi had always been curious, perhaps a little too curious. Her friends often called her brave, but sometimes, bravery came with a price. That day, the urge to explore finally overpowered her fear. She took a deep breath, tightened the straps of her small backpack, and stepped through the rusted gate.
The wind whispered through the overgrown weeds, and Bibi’s footsteps crunched against gravel and dried leaves. The house loomed in front of her like a sleeping giant—its wooden shutters hanging loosely, paint peeling from the walls, and vines creeping up the bricks like nature’s fingers reclaiming its space.
“Okay, Bibi,” she whispered to herself. “You’ve got this.”
She pushed open the heavy front door, which groaned in protest. Dust swirled around her as she stepped inside. The air was thick with the scent of mold and forgotten memories. Her flashlight flickered slightly, casting a shaky beam across the hallway.
The house was silent. Too silent.
Bibi’s heart thumped louder than her footsteps. She reached the living room and paused. Broken furniture was scattered across the room, and torn curtains flapped gently in the breeze sneaking through cracked windows. On a dusty table sat a faded photograph in a shattered frame—two children smiling with their arms around an old man.
“Who were they?” she wondered aloud, feeling a chill run down her spine.
She tiptoed farther into the house, her mind racing with questions. Suddenly, something shifted behind her. She spun around.
Nothing.
“Probably just the wind,” she muttered, trying to steady her breath.
Still, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Her imagination was beginning to run wild. What if someone—or something—was watching her?
As she made her way upstairs, each creaking step echoed through the hollow house. The second floor was darker, colder, and far more eerie. Doors lined the hallway, some slightly ajar, others closed tight
She picked one door and pushed it open slowly.
The room was filled with old toys—dusty dolls with cracked faces, a wooden rocking horse, and a shelf of children’s books that had turned yellow with age. A feeling of sadness filled her chest. It was as if the room had once been full of laughter and joy, but all that remained now was silence.
Suddenly, Bibi heard a loud thump from the room across the hall. Her heart leapt.
She stood frozen for a moment. Then another sound—creak… shuffle… creak.
Panic welled up inside her. She backed out of the toy room slowly, her hands trembling. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Her mind screamed, Run! But her feet wouldn’t move.
Just then, a door slowly opened down the hall, revealing nothing but darkness inside. Her flashlight flickered again. “Not now!” she gasped, tapping it desperately.
She turned around and rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping over her own feet. The floorboards moaned beneath her, and it felt like the entire house was alive and trying to trap her.
Bibi burst into the kitchen, gasping for air. She leaned against a wall, trying to calm her racing heart. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re okay.”
But the fear was real now. It wasn’t just her imagination. There was something off about this place.
She glanced around. The kitchen looked like it had been left in a hurry—plates still on the table, a chair knocked over, and a cracked window with the curtain ripped halfway off.
Just as she was about to leave, she heard footsteps—actual footsteps—walking above her. Slow and steady.
Bibi’s breath caught in her throat.
She grabbed her backpack, switched on her backup flashlight, and ran for the front door.
But the door wouldn’t budge.
She yanked and pulled with all her strength. “Come on, come on!”
Still nothing.
Tears welled up in her eyes. She felt trapped, like a bird in a cage. Her mind raced through every scary story she’d ever heard. Was this house haunted? Was she being watched?
Just then, she heard a soft voice behind her.
“Hello?”
She spun around and gasped. A boy, about her age, stood in the hallway holding a lantern. His face was pale, and he looked just as startled as she was.
“Who are you?” Bibi asked, her voice trembling.
“I—I live next door,” he said. “I saw you go in, and I thought maybe you needed help.”
Relief flooded through her.
Together, they managed to force the door open, and as soon as it creaked wide enough, Bibi darted outside, gulping in the fresh air like it was the sweetest thing in the world.
She looked at the boy. “Thank you. I was so scared.”
He nodded. “Me too. I’ve never been in there either.”
They stood in silence for a moment, looking back at the house.
“Why do you think it’s abandoned?” Bibi finally asked.
The boy shrugged. “My grandma said something bad happened there a long time ago. But no one really knows.”
Bibi glanced back at the doorway. Her heart was still pounding, but now that she was outside, it felt like the weight was lifting.
“I’m never going in there again,” she said with a shaky laugh.
“Yeah, me neither.”
As the two walked back toward the village, the stars began to twinkle overhead. The night air was cool, and the sound of crickets slowly brought peace back into Bibi’s mind.
She had faced her fear, and though it had overwhelmed her for a time, she now knew her limits. Curiosity was good—but sometimes, it was okay to be afraid. Sometimes, being brave meant knowing when to walk away.
That night, Bibi curled up in bed and held her stuffed bunny close. Her mind replayed every sound, every shadow, and every heartbeat from the abandoned house. But in the middle of it all, she reminded herself: she got out. She was safe.
And next time, maybe she’d bring a grown-up.
